Wildflower

photo: Joan Marcus

Capping 80 some odd minutes of "Lifetime movie"-sized doings with a "shock" ending (which I won't give away), Lila Rose Kaplan's Wildflower turns out to be a cautionary tale that seems to warn about the danger of not talking frankly with kids about sex. But what the painfully shy new boy in town does to the irritatingly precocious virgin in the play's final scene isn't merely misinformed - it's downright insane. The play's argument makes as much sense as saying that if you don't warn kids to wash their hands they just might stick them in a light socket. Most of the play's action is so bland that there's plenty of time for nagging questions - I wondered how a single mom could afford an indefinite stay at a bed and breakfast with her son on what she makes answering phones in a flower shop. The actors do what they can - Ron Cephas Jones comes off best, and Jake O'Connor is radar-worthy - but the play doesn't do them any favors.

Being Patient

The wordplay in the title of Kelly Samara's engaging one-act isn't just a wee trick; it's an example of the play's wisely crafted language. "Amusement," she philosophizes, is just a cleaned-up word for "distraction." Common words take on entirely different casts when contemplated by a terminal patient confined to a hospital. Ms. Samara trusts the audience to follow her, through words and movement, along her squirming evolution from impatience to eternal Patient. This trust makes the play (which features music and dance as well) an intensely satisfying experience (or "amusement"). So much so that the one time she doesn't trust us – when she concludes a monologue about iguanas and the difference between camouflage and invisibility by stating the obvious – is the one moment she disappoints a little. As part of Manhattan Repertory Theatre's Summerfest 2009, Being Patient ran for three performances only. A powerful and well-tuned fusion of the many talents of a very crafty artist, it deserves further development and a longer run. In any case Kelly Samara has earned some significant attention.

Hey, stranger!

I've gotten a couple of emails asking why I haven't been writing lately. The answer is that I haven't been writing *here*, at Showdown, because nearly everything I saw in July - six plays at the SPF, a couple of workshops, some festival shows - wasn't open for review. I've been writing lots of interviews over at my site in the meanwhile. Once the Fringe Festival kicks up on August 14th, I'll have plenty to cross-post here.

Avenue Q

Close to six years after it opened on Broadway, Avenue Q is in excellent shape. At a recent Saturday matinee, the extremely talented current cast performed with the energy, clarity, and commitment of an original cast in a brand-new musical with critics in the audience. (The current cast includes Robert McClure, Anika Larsen, Christian Anderson, and the ever-delightful Ann Harada.) The show itself holds up very well on repeated viewings: it is clever, heartfelt, and totally enjoyable. The controversy when Avenue Q beat out Wicked for the Tony was odd--it's a better show! Wicked has wonderful moments, and its size is fun, but it also has boring stretches and truly bad songs (particularly the wizard's). In my not-so-humble opinion, the Tony should have gone to Caroline, Or Change, but it makes sense to me that Avenue Q would beat out Wicked. Avenue Q has posted its closing notice for September 13th, which is sad.

West Side Story

I always thought that I liked West Side Story, Leonard Bernstein's once-revolutionary retelling of Romeo and Juliet amongst the gangs of 1950s lower Manhattan. I relished the highly stylized film adaptation as a child, and understood how jarring the original stage production (which starred Chita Rivera, Carol Lawrence and the late Larry Kert--quite the team) was to Broadway audiences at the time. The new production at the Palace Theatre--directed by the original bookwriter, Arthur Laurents, with Joey McKneely recreating Jerome Robbins' landmark choreography--has a strong sterility to it, and I had the feeling that someone unfamiliar with the history of this musical would view this current staging and not understand why the show has become the classic that it is. Part of the reason has to do with some major pieces of miscasting--Matt Cavenaugh is far too old and vocally wrong for Tony, while Cody Green's Riff is about as threatening as a midwestern Sunday School teacher. Even Karen Olivo, who won the Tony Award for her performance as Anita, failed to convey her character's fiery spirit throughout the performance. Only Josefina Scaglione, an ideal Maria, found the perfect balance of beautiful singing and intense acting that this particular show requires. In her hands, the devastating final scene offered the only semblance of the kind of emotion that should permeate an entire production of this musical.

Vanities

Photo: Joan Marcus

What differentiates a period piece from a dated work? At first glance, quality might seem to be the main difference, but it’s not. For example, Getting My Act Together and Taking It on the Road is an excellent show but it is definitely dated. Lack of universality might lend itself to datedness, but the while Moon for the Misbegotten is not universal, it is also not dated. Perhaps being too contemporary is a problem, since some of the most cutting-edge pieces are the most quickly dated, as time blunts their edges. I suspect the answer to the period-vs.-dated question is probably a complex formula along the lines of

“breadth of the moment examined” + “deepness of the examination” - “level of reliance on contemporary signifiers (brands, TV shows, etc)” x “talent and insight of the creator(s)” + "number of years from the present time"

For example, Getting My Act Together examined a particular moment in feminism, and feminism‘s success is one of the main reasons it is now dated, yet A Doll‘s House isn‘t--perhaps because of its underlying themes of loyalty and trust. Also, the Ibsen play is over a hundred years old, allowing the audience distance, while Getting My Act Together is only 30 years old.

The new musical version of Vanities, adapted by Jack Heifner from his 1976 play, is dated. While the ins and outs of friendship and loyalty are universal, this particular story depends on now-cliché tropes that limit its story to a tiny time and place. The new version has nothing new to say, which might be okay if it said the old things better. The three actresses give it their all, and there are moments that work, but mostly it just isn’t particularly interesting. The songs add little to the mix.